


Through Creation, to the Creator

by Larathia



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Gen, introspective essay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larathia/pseuds/Larathia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"It looked to Sacharissa that the only tools a dwarf needed were his ax and some means of making fire. That'd eventually get him a forge, and with that he could make simple tools, and with those he could make <span class="u">complex</span> tools, and with complex tools a dwarf could more or less make anything."</i><br/>~ The Truth, by Terry Pratchett</p>
<p>An introspective essay on the interrelationship of Tony Stark and his creations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Creation, to the Creator

Reporters had tried for years to 'get inside the mind' of Tony Stark. And he had a certain amount of enjoyment - provided the interview wasn't interrupting anything important - in driving reporters insane with vague or contradictory answers. He'd turned up to several interviews halfway to drunk, and concluded several more by sleeping with the reporter.

It was all a joke, anyway. And part of the joke was going through the obvious motions that were, in the end, all distractions.

The answers they wanted were all around them. As theologians were fond of saying, with - Tony felt - far less actual _accuracy_ , one could know the mind of the creator through studying his creation.

Every reporter who'd ever interviewed him at home had been walking through his mind, projected onto the physical world, and never given it a second glance. 

His home was, on the main level, open and spacious, with many windows and mathematically precise curves. It had an ocean view that reporters _had_ noticed, but never paired with the arcs in the building they stood in. Tony had caught a piece of the California shore in the boundaries of his house, and even JARVIS' informational screens never fully blocked the climate controlled view.

JARVIS, here, was the perfect butler - at least, perfect as far as Tony was concerned, who never wanted his guests to overstay their welcome. JARVIS provided helpful guidance to the lost and a startling reminder that snooping would not go unnoticed to curious reporters.

An apparently open, but in actuality separate, public persona.

Descend a level.

The garages are spacious and showroom-clean, with rare and expensive vehicles neatly slotted in their spaces. The sort of hobby a mechanical genius would be expected to have, but only a few enthusiasts knew that not one of Tony Stark's hundred-plus cars were factory mint. He'd gone over the systems of every last one of his cars, at one point or another. Tweaking the intake here, the fuel efficiency there, the torque over here and the braking system over there. He didn't collect cars because he appreciated cars. He collected them because a man of his wealth was expected to collect them, and he didn't get rid of them because correcting the engineering mistakes was a good way to pass a Saturday afternoon, while he was thinking about something more interesting. And showing them off in the occasional race had its merits.

JARVIS, here, monitored the entrances and exits, noted any change in vehicular performance, and generally behaved as a night watchman who doubled as a diagnostician. For the rare invited guest, he provided statistical information, useful to a creator wanting to demonstrate the superiority of his handiwork.

Still public persona, but one that those who knew something of his art could appreciate on multiple levels.

Descend a level.

The workshop is utilitarian. Easily hosed-clean concrete floors, sturdy racks for tools, open space that could be and often was reconfigured to meet the needs of his pet project of the moment. Pepper and Rhody were the only ones to come down here, people he trusted, because everything down here was real.

Tony had personally constructed the mechanical aides; Dummy was his first attempt at a learning-capable AI. Not a great one, but it was useful ...most of the time... and a reminder that not every idea could be made reality with a snap of the fingers. His later attempts were much brighter and more capable, of course. 

In the center of the workshop, at any given time, was the project of the moment, surrounded by the debris of past attempts. The workshop was sanctuary and haven, no pointless art or unused furniture. Everything had a place and a purpose and center stage was given to the Idea. 

Here, JARVIS came to life - making, revising, and tracking changes to blueprints, offering scans and readouts and pointing out areas of apparent flaw. The aides were JARVIS' hands, allowing the AI to step beyond the roles of butler and security guard and serve as Tony's personal aide and partner.

Tony wasn't introspective enough to have the words for _why_ he hated having most people in his workshops. It just felt like he was unscrewing the top of his head and inviting some twerp with a press pass to pronounce judgment on his brain. Extroverted and narcissistic he might be, but it was Tony Stark's firm belief that getting _that_ sort of privelege required more than a mere press pass. Or, for that matter, hotness, sexiness, alcoholic content, or search warrant.

Here was Tony's creative mind, locked securely away from prying eyes, and nothing emerged before he was ready for it to be seen.

Descend, just one more level.

Here, the Iron Man suits are stored. And here, too, nicely cool, were the servers that ran JARVIS.

People would always look first at Iron Man. At the flight and flash and firepower, the posturing and theatrics and the impenetrable shell that was both literal and metaphorical. And that was fine; there was something about wearing the armor, wearing a skin that he had devised in every detail, that let Tony Stark be _himself_ , and much to his pleased and relieved surprise, he'd found that 'himself' wasn't quite the incorrigibly raging asshole he'd always feared. Iron Man let him be good, and these days he really felt he needed to be good, and the toughness of the armor hid and protected he vulnerability that came with the need, the new need, to not only be good but be _seen_ to be good. To be forgiven.

People said Iron Man was his alter ego, but Iron Man was just the shell that let Tony feel safe in the strange and uncomfortable territory of trying to be a better person. _JARVIS_ was his alter ego, the other half of his mind. And like Tony Stark himself, JARVIS was a multilayered personality.

He was polite where Tony rarely bothered. Reserved where Tony was extroverted and brash. JARVIS never lost his temper, or his sense of dry humor. Never got his programmed feelings hurt because he knew the mind of his creator and where that mind was focused. JARVIS welcomed Tony's friends into the sanctum of the workshop and kept all unwelcome persons from ever getting close.

People ooh'd and ahh'd over the Iron Man suits but that was because most people were idiots. JARVIS was the heart of Tony's world and the peak of his creative ability, and without JARVIS even the Iron Man suits were lost. JARVIS' servers were housed in hollowed out, reinforced rock chambers deep under Tony's mansion, where even Mandarin's missiles couldn't reach.

The Mandarin had destroyed Tony's public persona and his public domain, stripping Tony down to the bare bones of his self. Tony, being a creator, simply built anew from the rubble, though there was nothing truly 'simple' about it.

From the rubble of a damaged mind, Tony took only JARVIS and his first attempt, designated 'Dummy' and deservedly so, but irreplaceable because it _was_ first.

The rest was just stuff and misdirection.


End file.
